The Braids of the Dead
by Ink Mage
Summary: Dis' thoughts on each of her kin as she prepares them for their funeral. Kinda sad


Hair in three sections. Left section moved to the middle, right section to the middle. And again. And again. Dis forced back tears as she gently braded her son's hair, stoking Fili's golden locks. Beside her was her brother, Thorin, and her other son, Kili, both waiting for her to tend to them for the last time. Neither of her sons had found a mate, and her brother's wife had died long ago. So it fell to her to prepare them for their funerals. This involved dressing them, cleaning and sharpening their weapons…and braiding their hair.

Fili had been her oldest son. Dis had been overjoyed when he had been born—the first dwarven child for many, many years. He had been a joyful child, always eager to explore. He returned home every evening, covered in mud and blood, with tales of wonderful adventures. Something had changed, however, after the birth of Kili. Fili had instantly become attached to his brother. He had matured quickly after that. He still went on adventures with his ever-present companion, of course, and they were still never clean. But Fili had become more responsible; swearing to Dis that he would never let anyone harm his brother. Not while he lived. Dis let out a choked sob as she braded beads of copper into Fili's thick hair and beard. She had questioned him before about his love for the strange metal.

"Copper is undervalued," he had always insisted. "It is not rare, nor does it hold an edge as well as iron and steel. But copper is so malleable, and allows itself to blend with so many other metals. And no matter how long you leave copper alone to the elements, it does not lose its shine, nor does it rust away." He had been so passionate about the simple metal, preferring to work with it rather than gold or iron. His copper rings and bracelets had become a common sight in small towns such as Bree, where men could not afford gold and diamonds for their wives and family. The dwarf-crafted rings were popular among men and women—but never again would Fili's hand wield the hammer.

Kili had been her more mischievous son. Dis could not count the number of times that he had been accused of playing pranks, or teasing other children, or scrapping with humans or other dwarves. And Kili had always stood there; a guilty smile on his face at the list of infractions was brought before his fretting mother. No punishment seemed to hamper his ability to cause trouble—save perhaps being separated from his brother. Dis saved that punishment for severe infractions that both dwarves were guilty of, as she could not stand the heart-broken tears of one of the brothers when the other was sent elsewhere. But despite his tendency to cause trouble, Kili had a good heart. He had always protected those smaller or weaker than him. Every mother in Bree knew that when their child was with Kili, then they were as safe as in their own home (although more likely to come home dirty, filled with tales of epic battles against imagined enemies). He had taught himself to make toys, and had created marvellous inventions for the children of the nearby villages. But there would be no dwarf-made toys coming from Bree.

Dis had chosen beads of silver to weave into Kili's hair. Unlike his brother, Kili had shown no affiliation with any metal. But silver reflected Kili's personality—flexible, easy to hurt and injure, quick to take offence with wrongs against his family or his friends, but always willing to forgive sligths against them. But most importantly, silver shone in the light, drawing eyes from all around to notice its unique beauty. Kili had often cursed his looks—in particular his inability to grow a beard befitting of a dwarvish prince. But he had drawn attention from dwarves and men alike—although he had always kept his heart to himself.

Finally, Dis came to her brother—Thorin Oakenshield, the King under the Mountain. She had been forced as a young dwarf to see the events of the years turn her beloved brother bitter and cold, as their father went mad and their grandfather died in a hopeless battle. She had watched him grow more and more determined to take back what was stolen from them by Smaug the Dragon, and become more and more fixated on his hatred of the elves. Her dear brother—the one who had carried her on his shoulders through the halls of Erebor, and who had stolen small treats for her from the kitchens—was gone. The Thorin Oakenshield that remained was dark, angry, and always focused on his goal of returning to the Lonely Mountain.

Beads of gold, or silver, or bronze were unbefitting to the noble dwarf. Dis trembled as she opened a small pouch on her waist, bringing forth beads made from mithril. She had been planning to give them to her brother when he finally decided to stop ignoring the advances from the other dwarves and settle down with a mate. They had been worn by his father, and his grandfather, and his great grandfather. Thorin's mother, before dying, had handed them to Dis instead.

"I believe that your brother will choose a mate when he either succeeds or gives up his quest," the elderly dwarf had said. "Give him the beads then. But before then, he will use the beads as further inspiration for revenge, and corrupt the mithril with his dark thoughts." Dis cried softly as she wove the last bead through the last braid in Thorin's beard. That time would never come.

She rememberd the glory of Erebor from her past. She had seen the shattered remains of the great Dwarven Empire that they had fought so hard to reclaim, and the stores of gold and silver that lay below. She had seen the plans to rebuild, and could picture the empire that would rise from the ashes. But as she looked at the still faces of her kin—the last of the line of the Kings under the Mountain—she couldn't help but wondering: was it worth it?


End file.
